


Bragging About Hubby

by Ophiel



Series: The Dalish Curse [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tabletop Gaming, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn likes bragging about Cullen, even if Cullen would prefer to be warned about it beforehand. Ham and potato stew also turns out to be quite a turn on. All the while, something is following them, stabbing werewolves in the darkness as they near the Elvish keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bragging About Hubby

The Brescillian Forest was actually surprisingly peaceful. Evelyn hadn’t expected a place of such dark history to be this comforting. Trees rose high above them, dappling the sunlight and casting blue shadows on the forest floor. There was the smell of earth and pine here, the air as fresh as a sip from a bubbling spring. The air was also quiet, peppered with bird song and the rustle of leaves from above. Cullen’s armour had an interesting sound when he walked, a mixture of leather straps and tapping heavy metal. Evelyn’s own leather robes flared out when she followed beside him. It was freeing not to adventure with a staff. Always, walking sometimes ahead, sometimes beside them, was Dog, romping through the woods like a puppy.

As they strolled, she thought back to Warden Jarred, a gruff man with a magnificent red beard. He claimed to have part Avvar in him and Evelyn believed him. He was the only other person in Vintiver who had armour besides Cullen, and he wore it with the same comfort as an old soldier would. Evelyn took to him immediately. He reminded her of Blackwall with far more interesting swear words.

Earlier that day, Branson rode in the back of the wagon, tending to Mahari and Rickard’s stricken farm hand. Cullen drove the wagon, a cloak pulled over his armour. The wagon jolted as a wheel hit a bump. “Eighteen,” Branson snapped from the back of the wagon.

Cullen grit his teeth in irritation and focused on the road. Evelyn was riding next to Warden, holding the reins with one hand. She bore no staff, only her hilt at her waist.

“I pulled the men off the fields when I got your message, Inquisitor,” Jarred told her. “They’re patrolling around the village. Some have watch at the outlying houses like the Rutherford’s. Not everyone is happy. They think we should be going out there to kill elves.”

“So they would,” Evelyn said drily. “That’s the only solution, of course.”

“Isn’t that what you’re planning?”

“My job was always to keep the peace, Warden Jarred,” she drawled. “I’ve killed a lot of things in my time, but not elves who themselves are victims.”

“Hah! Andraste’s tits, Inquisitor. I heard a lot of stories about you. Did you really kill a dragon in Redcliffe?”

“Yes.”

“Then Vintiver will be fine.”

“I hope so,” Evelyn said. Jarred looked ahead as they came to the town. “We’ll leave our patients at the clinic.”

Jarred nodded. “I’ll head off then, Inquisitor, Commander. Lots to do to get these farmers to at least act like guardsmen.”

He headed off towards the Chantry.

At Branson’s clinic, the two injured were laid out on cots in the infirmary. As Cullen and Evelyn helped to move Mahari and the farm hand, Branson went upstairs without a word. He returned with small bottles. “Take these,” he said, handing them to Cullen and Evelyn. “They’re healing elixirs. Don’t die, you both. You just got home, Cullen. We haven’t defeated Mia at chess as grown ups yet.”

Cullen smiled his half-smile and hugged his brother. “Whatever happens, get to the Chantry. It’s defensible, better than here,” he advised.

Branson nodded and turned to Evelyn. “Look after him, Eve. He’s a big stupid lug, but he’s the only brother I have.”

Evelyn laughed as she hugged Branson. “I’ll watch out for him. He’s my big stupid lug husband, as well.”

“Your honesty does you credit, sister,” Branson grinned as Cullen rolled his eyes.

Evelyn glanced at her big, stupid lug of a husband as they walked through the forest, smiling slightly to herself. Cullen was actually extremely intelligent,  just very, very direct. He had no patience for subtlety or duplicity. He approached problems like an auger, seeing straight to the heart of things and finding the most direct solution. That made him delightful to tease. “Branson is very clever,” she said quietly, patting Dog’s head as the mabari followed alongside them.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Cullen said drily. “Mother used to say he was so sharp he’d cut himself.”

“Cleverness must run in the family,” Evelyn said. "Where Branson is a corkscrew, you're more of a hammer."

“I'm not even sure if that's a compliment, but I'll take it,” Cullen chuckled. He looked up at the trees, his features soft. “It’s nice out here, isn’t it?”

“It reminds me of the Emerald Graves, but with spindlier trees.” Evelyn’s eyes lingered on his face, then glanced over her shoulder at the road behind them.

“The last time I passed through there, we were rushing down to the Arbor Wilds. We didn’t have time to sightsee. Most of the time, it’s all names on maps, to me.”

“I’m happy we’re here, at least,” she said, slipping her hand in his. “Even if circumstances that brought us here could have been better.”

“Truly,” he agreed. “Our holiday isn’t going quite as planned.”

“Well, we’re surviving as any newly-wed couple would,” she laughed. “Yelling a bit, making mistakes, making up, making it up as we go along. And walking through the woods hand in hand with our dog.”

“Except we’re being followed,” he said breezily.

“Yes, I’m quite annoyed about that,” Evelyn said, hugging Cullen’s arm and leaning her head on his shoulder

“Let’s find a way off the road,” Cullen said, his voice still casual and giving no indication that they were aware of the people tailing them.

“I can do that,” Evelyn said. “Brace yourself. I can Frost Step bearing loads in my arms.”

“Are you certain?” Cullen asked, his tone of voice indicating that he was definitely not certain about this at all.

“Sure!” Evelyn beamed, tightening her grip on his arm “Never tried it with a person before, but I’m sure it’ll be fine!”

Cullen stared at her, disbelief in his expression. “If you’re-” They vanished in a cold wind, sweeping up leaves in their wake. Dog barked and bounded off rapidly after them, his tail wagging as if it were a game. 

Startled shouts rang out behind them. Evelyn and Cullen stopped suddenly around the bend in the road ahead. Unbalanced by Cullen’s weight, Evelyn stifled a yelp as she tumbled on the ground with Cullen falling painfully on top of her with a grunt. “Let’s not do that ever again,” Cullen grunted as he picked himself up, a bump on his forehead.

“Good idea,” Evelyn grit her teeth as Cullen lifted her to her feet with Dog prancing around them. They slipped off the road and into the foliage of the undergrowth. They ducked down, watching the path behind them. From behind her tree trunk, Evelyn could hear voices coming up the bend in the road. Cullen loosened his sword in his scabbard, his body shielded from view by the thick bushes he hid behind. Dog lay on his belly, looking perplexed by the human’s game but going along with it anyway. It perked its ears up.

“Aye, I saw them here!” she heard a familiar voice coming up from the path. She frowned, seeing the familiar braided mustache. The blacksmith was still wearing his forge-splotched leather apron, a massive hammer in his hands. He was flanked by two men who weren’t looking too pleased to be there. Both carried machetes, implements meant more for the farm than for battle.

“She’s the Inquisitor, Coalan!” one of them said. “She’s a mage- She’ll kill us!”

“She’s going to bring the damn knife-ears to us, you see if she won’t!” Coalan growled. Evelyn glanced at Cullen. She jerked her head out to the group. Cullen frowned his disapproval. She rolled her eyes at him. He sighed inwardly and nodded, his sword clicking home in its sheathe.

"She's gone anyway," said the third villager hopefully. "Let's head back. That soldier she's with looks-"

"Then we keep going," Coalan snarled. “Look for them!”

"Gentlemen," Evelyn drawled. The three men spun around, seeing Evelyn and Cullen standing on the path behind them. Cullen had not even drawn his sword, but the two villagers with Coalan involuntarily took a step back at the sight of his cold glare, as if he were a spring tightly coiled of violence that merely needed an excuse to unwind. Dog padded out of the trees beyond the men and sat down to scratch its ear, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, its white fangs glinting as it smiled with the joy of the scratch. Then it turned around to lick its bottom. Evelyn wished the dog would have more sense of occasion. 

However, Evelyn secretly enjoyed the sight of the men cowering before Cullen. She held her stump of an arm casually with her free hand, watching them. "You were looking for me?" asked Evelyn. "I do so hate to disappoint."

"You!" Coalan spat, pointing his hammer at her. “You lied to me, missy! Visiting your inlaws, my arse!”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Evelyn flicked her hand at them dismissively. “Have you met my husband, by the way? Commander Cullen Rutherford? Leader of the Inquisition’s army across Ferelden and Orlais? Former Templar, Knight Captain of Kirkwall? Led the Siege of Adamant, Battle of the Arbor Wilds, etcetera, etcetera.” It was perhaps only she who saw the twitch in Cullen’s eye.

The villagers paled and stepped back further, to Evelyn’s secret delight.

Even Coalan had the decency to look worried. “And you’re the Inquisitor!” he growled accusingly at Evelyn.

“Yes,” Evelyn breathed. “Which makes me his boss.” She glared at Coalan. “What is your point, Master Blacksmith? Why are you pressing a fight? Your friends seem to have sense in their heads, at least. We have no quarrel with you.”

“You’ll bring the damn elves to us! They’ve been killing us, but you’re going to bring them back! You brought one already!”

Evelyn swore inwardly, they knew about Mahari. Cullen’s blade made a deceptively quiet noise as he loosened it in its sheathe. “And how would you know about that?” he asked, his voice full of quiet steel.

“We- We saw them in the healer’s,” one of the villagers blurted. He flinched when Cullen’s glare fell on him. “She’s there, she’s fine - Branson too! He’s not letting us in to take the elf-”

“Warden Jarred is there too, C-Commander,” the other added, holding up his hands placatingly.

“If any harm comes to them,” Evelyn growled at Coalan. “You will find yourself in more trouble than you know, blacksmith.”

Coalan must have been so strung full of nerves that he snapped. “Shut up, you whore!” he screamed and charged, his hammer held high. Evelyn’s hand stopped Cullen’s wrist as he moved to draw his sword. She sidestepped the wild charge, tripping the blacksmith and sending him tumbling. As he fell, she fired a blast of force from her mind that sent the man rolling back down the road like a rag doll, his hammer falling heavily onto the ground.

 

“Get him back to the village,” Evelyn commanded the two villagers. “See that he stays there, for his own health.”

The villagers nodded, giving them a wide berth as they went to gather up the unconscious blacksmith. Evelyn frowned as she watched the three leave. “Fools,” she spat. “Let’s hurry. The faster we find this keep, the faster we can kill that monster and put an end to this.”

Cullen swore under his breath. “I hope Branson is alright,” he said.

“The faster we get back the better,” said Evelyn, heading off down the road towards the Dalish camp.

 ****  


++++

They left the road after several hours of walking and entered the undergrowth of the forest. Nearer the tracks, bushes and young trees grew thickly, fighting for sunlight that was so sparse in the woods. Get past that and you were in another world. The trees stood like pillars in a great cathedral carpeted with moss and grass, late afternoon sunlight lancing down through the canopy as if through stained glass. Dog ranged ahead, sniffing at the track. The atmosphere seemed to have mellowed his insufferably cheerful attitude. Evelyn followed with Cullen, their hands near their weapons.

Dog started to bark ahead as it entered a clearing. There were broken aravels here, parked in what seemed to be a circle around the remains of a campfire. The sails of the aravels fluttered mournfully in the slight breeze, torn and tattered, some scorched by magic. Arrows pierced the ground where they had fallen. Dog took off sniffing around the campsite.

Evelyn walked towards the fire, running her fingers through the ashes in the pit. “Cold,” she noted. “Over a day.”

Cullen was crouched hear an aravel. “There’s blood here, some of it quite large pools,” he told her. “Not survivable. Judging from the pools, there were some dead, some wounded. There must have been a two way fight here.”

“But where are they?” Evelyn breathed, looking about the camp. There were indeed pools of dried blood on the grass, but no corpses. “Look at the damage to the aravels, as well, there’s no scratch marks, so did those werewolves do this?”

“Werewolves don’t shoot arrows,” Cullen pointed out.

Evelyn frowned as she looked down. Amid the detritus strewn near the campfire, she knelt down and lifted up a small nug doll, amateurishly stitched and stained with blood. She felt her heart sink at the thought of what the blood-stained doll implied. If the elves were taken, if they were alive, she would find them. Dog came over to sniff the doll. It looked up at her expectantly, its yellow eyes watching and waiting for her command.

“It’s getting late,” Cullen said, taking the doll from her. “It’ll be dark soon. We should start out tomorrow, with this. Dog can follow its scent.”

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. She knew he was right. In her haste, she would have dashed out into the forest then and there, but even on her strangest adventures, she had friends who advised caution. “We should,” she said. She chuckled slightly. “Cassandra and I would have run out into the night. I can just imagine Varric or Sol-” She stopped and shook her head. “Let’s find camp.”

They set up their tents down the path from the Dalish camp. A small brook bubbled by the clearing. Cullen pitched a tent while Evelyn drew a glyph around their firepit. She waved her hand, the symbols flaring before catching ablaze. The etherial fire needed no fuel, yet burned cheerily. Cullen was already getting water from the stream with their waterskins. “Shall I cook?” Evelyn asked, taking out her small pan and travel rations.

“Er.”

“That’s your being-tactful-to-your-wife voice, Cullen,” she sighed in resignation. “You cook then. You’re better at it than I am - surprisingly,” she added under her breath.

“I heard that,” Cullen said, setting their full waterskins down. Dog snuggled up to Evelyn, its eyes full of hope for sausages that he might maybe receive. “Stop it,” Evelyn said. “You know you have better luck with Cullen.” Dog turned his devastatingly adorable gaze to Cullen.

Cullen chuckled. “Maybe later,” he promised the dog.

“You spoil him, love,” Evelyn said. “He’s not sleeping in the tent, by the way.”

“Of course,” Cullen said, in a tone Evelyn knew would mean she would wake up with Dog using her face as a pillow. Again.

“I’ll go set wards down the path and around the camp then,” Evelyn sighed, standing up. Cullen nodded, which Evelyn found an improvement. He wasn’t insisting that she stay ‘safe’.

Dinner was cooking on the fire when she returned, sausages and toasted bread with- “Stew?” Evelyn exclaimed in surprise as Cullen sat calmly stirring the contents of a small pot. “Where did that come from?”

“We had some ham and potatoes,” Cullen shrugged. He was still in armour and seemed totally at ease even while making ham and potato stew.

Evelyn grinned at him. “Kind, polite, excellent warrior, obliviously handsome and conjures stews out of thin air and ham?” she teased as she sat with him at the fire. “I am so turned on right now, Commander.”

Cullen laughed. “I should make stews more often,” he kissed her. “But you’ve praised me enough for one day.”

“Allow me to show  you off once in a while,” she grinned, slipping her good arm around his waist.

“Yes, well, warn me first, next time. I could barely keep a straight face.”

“I shall,” she said and then climbed into his lap.

“Evie,” he scolded, trying to keep that straight face he talked about, which was hard to do when holding a wooden cooking ladle.

“Yes, Cully?” she purred, settling down and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Maker’s breath,” he laughed. “If I burn myself, it’ll be entirely your fault.”

“I could kiss it and make it better.”

+++

 ****  


Evelyn pulled the first watch. She insisted; Cullen hadn’t slept the night before, after all. She sat with her back to the fire to preserve her night vision, looking out into the darkness around the camp. Dog had curled up with Cullen, of course. The beast seemed more attached to him than she was. She wiled away the hours trying to cast spells without her hands. The air in front of her would glow with frost, spark with electricity. It would take ages for her to work herself up to cast the way she used to with a staff. At least the skills of the Knight Enchanter was easier.

The thought of Cullen playing with Aidan bloomed in her mind. She bit her lip. Children. Something she never thought she’d have to think about. She would like for Cullen to have that quiet life, to have his children and family. She felt like she had stepped into a forbidden future with him. They could do things that were denied them before. She sighed. She liked fighting. She had grown accustomed to being the one who led from the front. Could she put that part of being Inquisitor down the way he hoped?

Sullenly, she let a burst of frost pop in the air in front of her as she hugged her knees. She would have to try, for his sake.

A hoot in the darkness cut through her thoughts. Owl? She took her hilt from her belt and stood up, her eyes peering into the trees. There was an answering call from the other side of the camp. She ducked into the tent. Cullen was still dressed in full armour, hugging Dog in his sleep. Dog was already perking his ears up but did not move from Cullen's snuggle. Cullen blinked awake as Evelyn shook his shoulder.

“Cullen, something’s out there,” she said urgently. There was the sound of bursting frost in the distance. “It just triggered a ward.”

He was reaching for his sword and shield, already awake. Dog bounded out of of the tent, sniffing at the air. Evelyn and Cullen stepped out of the tent, their ears intently listening in the darkness beyond the firelight. There was more hooting, something growled urgently and ended in a bloody yelp.

Cullen readied sword sword and shield just just as one of the creatures lunged at them, bounding into the firelight. His shield bash sent the creature tumbling into the fire as Evelyn flared the flames in the glyph. The gray werewolf burst into flame, yelping and send screaming as it charged once more. Cullen parried the blow and brought his sword down on its neck. The werewolf fell headless to the ground, the body twitching. Another burst from the trees but ran past them instead, fleeing something in the the woods.

Cullen moved to cut it down but Evelyn stopped him with the stump of her arm. There was a flare in the forest as the beast triggered another ward. A gust of cold burst past them as a spire of ice encased the werewolf, glowing gently with residual magic.

Dog was calmly sniffing the dead beast. It wasn't barking, not did it seem perturbed. Evelyn frowned at it in confusion. Why wasn't the mabari reacting to the creatures the way it reacted at the house?

“Are there more?” Evelyn asked the dog. Dog perked its ears at her and tilted its head. Evelyn rolled her eyes, wondering why she even bothered.

The decapitated werewolf was at her feet, she knelt down as blood flowed from its gaping maw and neck. In the light of the fire that lingered on its fur, she could see that there were dagger wounds in its body. “What in the Void?” Evelyn muttered.

Cullen had walked out of the light of the burning wolf and into the woods. Evelyn stopped herself from calling out to him to wait for her. She grit her teeth. She had to not interpret everything he did as a sign that he thought her incapable now that her arm was gone.

She kicked the werewolf’s head out of the way and relit the fire glyph with her eyes closed. She could see the firelight flare through her eyelids and turned from the light. She went to the werewolf encased in ice, the light from the spire gently illuminating her features with soft blue. Evelyn stared at the carcass, seeing more dagger marks, stabs that went directly to the beast’s vitals.

“Five more dead in the woods,” Cullen said as he returned to her side, blood dripping from his sword.

“You killed them?” she asked.

“No, but I made doubly sure they were dead,” Cullen replied, swinging his sword in a swift arc to swipe off the blood, splattering it into the trees.

“Something is killing them with daggers,” Evelyn said.

“I know, the ones we found around Rickard had similar wounds. You said ‘something’. Don’t you mean someone?”

“Do I?” Evelyn murmured thoughtfully, biting her thumbnail. Cullen reached out and pulled her hand from her mouth. Evelyn smiled at him sheepishly.

“A Dalish, perhaps?” he suggested.

“We’ll find out soon enough, I think,” Evelyn shrugged.

 


End file.
